"Ollie, no," Sara Lance laughed as Oliver Queen, her older sister's boyfriend, pleaded with her to come on a trip to China with him.

"It'll be fun, Sara," he tried again, a grin lighting up his extremely handsome face. "You, me, a bottle of champagne, and the open sea."

"And your father and the crew," Sara listed with an eye roll, pushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. It was tempting; so, so tempting. She had had a crush on Oliver for years. Wouldn't it be stupid of her to turn down an opportunity like this? It's not like Laurel would find out.

Laurel.

Laurel wasn't always the best sister to Sara. She had conned her way into the pants of the man Sara was in love with. Sara wasn't the best sister to her, either though, she had to admit. They were too different in so many aspects that it was hard for Sara to get along with her. Her parents always compared them to the sun and the moon. Sara was sunshine, bright and happy with her light blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Laurel was darker with her chocolate locks and green-hazel eyes. Even before she colored her hair darker, Laurel's blonde hair had never reached the shade that Sara's was, and there was a part of Sara that was glad that Laurel would never shine as bright as her.

In Sara's eyes, Laurel got everything, including the boy. The only one Sara wanted. She should say yes. Sara was going to say yes.

"No." What? Why was she turning down this golden opportunity to fuck the one man she'd ever loved? What was wrong with her? "I can't do that to Laurel," she continued.

"Sleep with me or go on a trip with me?" She leaned forward, pressing her lips against his.

"Go on a trip with you," she laughed. "It'd be too easy for Laurel to find out about it if we both disappear. What if my family tries to get a hold of me and thinks I'm just back at school? Laurel could sniff us out in an instant." Oliver grinned, running his palms along her bare thighs peeking out from beneath her sundress.

"But sleeping with me is still on the table, right?"

"One hundred percent still on the table."

"She showed up?" Sara gasped into the receiver of her cellphone while on the phone with Oliver.

"Yeah," he sighed. "I guess it's a good thing you decided to not go." Oliver had just gotten done explaining how Laurel had appeared on the Gambit to surprise him, but Oliver decided to fly over in a week and meet his dad in China. "Oh, fuck."

"What?" She questioned.

"I had the room set up for you as a surprise. Champagne, rose petals. The works." Sara flinched.

"Which means she's going to know you were expecting company," she surmised with a sigh. "Fuck, Ollie."

"Yeah, I know. I'm going to have to do major damage control when we see each other in China."

"Ollie, you can't expect her to stay with you after knowing you were going to cheat, do you?"

"We love each other, Sara. Laurel and I can work this out," Oliver replied, sounding so sure.

Sara was less sure.

"Laurel has put up with a lot from you, Oliver, but cheating? You know she's going to draw the line somewhere, right?" Oliver grumbled out an agreement, and then sighed.

"Guess we'll just have to see where we are in a couple of days."

That didn't happen. Moira Queen, Oliver's mother, was notified of the sinking of the Gambit two days later. She called Quentin and told him what had happened.

He told Sara and Dinah together when Sara came back from school for a break.

"I got some- some really bad news today," he said, tears lining his eyes in a way Sara had never seen before.

"Honey, what happened?"

"Moira called; there was an accident."

"Oliver? Did something happen to Ollie?" Sara asked, voice panicked.

"No, baby. There was a storm, and the Gambit sunk. Laurel's been presumed dead."

A ringing was heard in Sara's ears, and whatever her dad said after sounded like he was underwater.

Laurel's dead.

Oh, God.

"No," Sara whispered. "No! There's no way! Moira is wrong!" She shouted, startling her weeping mother next to her.

"Sara, sweetheart-" Quentin choked out, reaching for her. Sara jerked back.

"Don't touch me," she snapped. "Laurel is fine. You'll see."

She was not fine.

Two months went by, and Laurel was still presumed dead. Sara barely spoke to anyone, ignoring her mother, father, and especially Oliver. A part of her, a much larger part than she'd care to admit, blamed him for Laurel's death. If he hadn't had been so busy trying to talk Sara into going with him on the yacht, then maybe Laurel wouldn't have been alone. Of course, there was no guarantee that Oliver would've been able to save her. He probably would have drowned right along with her and his own father. Sara knew that Laurel wouldn't want her to blame anyone for her death, but she was so angry. Angry at the world, angry at Laurel, angry at Oliver, angry at herself.

A part of her even hated Laurel a bit for choosing to follow Oliver to China. Sara was supposed to be the impulsive sister, not Laurel. If she hadn't tried to impress Oliver by going with him, then she'd still be here. Laurel would still be with Sara where she's supposed to be and not at the bottom of the goddamn ocean. Sara started drinking more, even getting arrested by her own father at one point. He didn't book her, luckily, writing it off as a 'one time thing, right Sara?'

It was not a one time thing. She was thankfully never arrested, but she found herself stumbling back to her dorm a handful of times. More than a handful of times. Most of the time. She started failing her classes to the point her parents were called.

She was woken up one morning to a banging on her dorm room door. Sara groaned, hung over for the third time that week, and looked over at her roommate's bed. Pauline was gone, probably already attending her morning classes where Sara should be.

"Sara!" A voice called from the other side and of the door. She recognized the deep tone as Quentin's and groaned again.

"Go away!" She shouted as loudly as she could manage before smothering her face back into her pillow. Couldn't everyone just leave her alone to grieve her dead sister in peace? The doorknob jiggled before she heard a key being slid into the lock. Of course he made a copy of her dorm room key. Why would she think she'd have even a modicum of privacy with a police officer for a father? The door opened, and through hazy vision she saw Quentin's head poke through the door as the hallway lights filtered through the crack. "Close the door!" She snapped, burying her head under her pillow.

"It smells like a goddamn brewery in here," her father growled, closing the door and then flipping on the overhead dorm light. Sara yelped as the lights pierced her eyes, sending a jolt of pain through her skull.

"What the hell are you doing, Sara?" Quentin demanded loudly. Sara sat up, glaring at her father.

"Grieving," she snapped back. "Just like you if the stories mom has been telling me is anything to go by." Quentin flinched back slightly, and Sara didn't even feel guilty. Dinah had told her that they were on the brink of divorce because of Quentin's drinking, and for him to drive all of the way to Sara's college to judge her for being iust like him was too damn far.

"Sara, I know you're upset-"

"Upset? Upset?! I'm devastated! This is my fault!" She screamed, pushing her lamp off of the desk and letting it shatter on the ground in her grief. "It should be me at the bottom of the ocean, not Laurel!" She admitted. Quentin blinked in surprise.

"Honey, what are you talking about?"

"Oliver invited me to go on the yacht with him," she said as she watched her father's eyes widen. "He told me he had the room setup with champagne and roses, the whole nine yards. I backed out at the last minute. Do you know what that means, daddy?" She questioned, voice going from soft to a harsh whisper as tears started falling down her cheeks. "Laurel boarded that yacht to spend time with her boyfriend as a surprise, hoping with everything in her that he was going to propose to her soon, and was instead met with a room made up for a spectacular night of drinking and sex, realizing that it wasn't for her." Her voice trailed off as her emotions started getting the better of her. "Laurel died knowing, without a doubt, that Oliver was going to cheat on her. It should have been me." A sob ripped from her throat as her shoulders shook violently from the force of her cries. Quentin rushed forward, wrapping his arms around his daughter, comforting her as best as he could.

"Laurel wouldn't want you to blame yourself," he sighed. "But, I don't understand why you would do that to her? She was your sister." Was. Ugh.

"I've been in love with Ollie for years," she revealed. "I tried to stay away when he and Laurel got together, but there was just something about him that drew me in." Quentin scoffed at that.

"Sara, you might be in love with him, but I don't think Oliver Queen can love anyone. This whole thing proves it." Maybe he was right, Sara thought miserably. Oliver had tried to talk to her, but Sara didn't want to listen. Moira had also sent her condolences for the Lance's loss, and she was pretty sure that Dinah had done the same concerning Robert, but she wasn't certain.

Tommy Merlyn, Oliver and Laurel's best friend, had also reached out. Sara liked him, not as much as Oliver, but he was funny and charming with a nice smile and pretty eyes. Tommy, Oliver, and Laurel were attached at the hip after Oliver and Laurel met when they were younger, and Tommy and Oliver had been friends before even that while they were in diapers. They integrated Sara into the fold easily, though she always seemed to sense some hesitance from Laurel. Sara wasn't sure if it was because she wanted Oliver and Tommy to herself, or if it was simply because she was forced to share everything with her at home, her big sister didn't want to share her best friends, too.

Those times were now over, she supposed, with Laurel now dead.

"You need to talk to someone," Quentin said, breaking Sara out of her musings. Her bright blue eyes snapped to his in surprise. Oh, right, she had forgotten she was talking to him.

"I guess," she agreed.

"Whenever you're ready, Miss Lance." Sara played with a loose string of fabric from the sleeve of the bright yellow top she was wearing, avoiding the soft gaze of the woman in front of her. It had been a month since her father talked her into going to therapy, but she still wasn't sure what to do with her life. She had just barely finished her associate's degree in Creative Writing, and the plan was to continue on with a teaching degree, but that was before Laurel; before the Gambit.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say," she mumbled, still not looking up.

"There is no right or wrong thing to say here. You can say as little or as much as you want during our sessions," the woman soothed, and Sara was surprised at how much she enjoyed the sound the woman's voice. She glanced up, finally meeting the hazel-green eyes of the woman in front of her. Hazel-green eyes that reminded her so much of Laurel that her own eyes filled with tears and a sob burst through unexpectedly.

"I'm sorry," she cried out, reaching forward for the tissues the therapist already had waiting. "Your eyes – they just – Laurel-"

"Your sister?" The woman guessed, and Sara nodded. "Tell me about her?"

So she did.

For a full hour, Sara talked to this woman, Doctor Colette Crane, about Dinah Laurel Lance. How much she loved her, the times she hated her, the times she was jealous. All of it. When the hour was up, Sara felt lighter and a bit freer.

"Same time next week, Miss Lance?" Doctor Crane questioned, standing up to shake Sara's hand as they parted. Sara agreed and almost skipped out of the door. She couldn't believe how therapeutic that was. Or that her father was the one who suggested it.

When she got home, she saw a sight that she was expecting, but still didn't want to see; her mother's bags packed. "Mom?" She questioned, tears filling her eyes for the millionth time that day. She honestly figured she'd have no more tears to shed, but she was clearly wrong. Dinah sighed, standing up from the couch where she and Quentin were clearly waiting for her.

"I'm sorry, honey," Dinah said, reaching for Sara's hand and pushing a lock of blonde hair away from her face. Dinah's eyes, the same shade of blue as Sara's skirted along her face, seemingly memorizing every pore and freckle that dusted her pale face. "We tried, but it's not working. I'm leaving."

"Where are you going to go?"

"I'm moving to Central City," Dinah sighed, dropping Sara's hand and taking a step back. Sara knew her parents didn't actively blame her for Laurel's death after finding out that Oliver had invited her on the yacht, but Quentin did seem to harbor some ill feelings towards Dinah, and Sara had an inkling about what it was if her mother broke her promise. Whatever it was, it had caused him to drink more heavily than Laurel's passing did, and she found him passed out drunk more often than not. It really made her feel sympathetic towards Pauline, her old dorm mate, for the amount of times she had to carry Sara's drunk ass back home.

"Just like that? You're giving up?"

"We tried, Sara! I tried! There's just nothing to try for anymore," Dinah cried, pleading. Her pleading just made Sara angry.

"The three of us are all we have left," she snarled. "And you want to leave? Fine! Go! You'll be just as dead to me as Laurel!" Sara felt a bit of guilt when Dinah's eyes glazed over with hurt, but not enough to take back her words at the moment. Dinah was giving up on the little bit of family she had left. Fine by Sara.

She and Quentin would be fine without her.

Only half an hour of her therapy session was dedicated to Dinah. The other part was going over Sara's new plans to join in the Police Academy at some point in the future, deciding to switch majors to Criminal Psychology instead of teaching.

"This is great progress, Sara," Doctor Crane said, eyes shining with pride as Sara told her the plan. She wished with everything in her, though, that the hazel-green eyes shining back at her were Laurel's.

"Thanks, Doc," Sara grinned, pushing some of her bangs out of the way. She had decided to grow out her straight across bangs, so they now hung down near her jaw, framing her face on either side. It was nearing eight months since Laurel had been gone, and was steadily staying the worst year of Sara's life.

When she got home, she and Quentin went over the paperwork and financial aid, scholarships and grants to make the switch. She could attend the same college if she wanted to, but there was a great program in Central City that was closer to home. During her monthly calls to Dinah, her mother offered to let Sara stay with her, give them some "bonding time". Sara certainly wasn't going to do that, and told Dinah as much. Sara was still bitter and she also held too much resentment inside herself for Dinah to want to stay with her. Maybe after fifteen or thirty more sessions with Doctor Crane, they'd talk about it again. Maybe.

Sara groaned, cracking her back loudly after unpacking her last bag in her new apartment in Central City. She was sharing a three bedroom apartment with two other people also going to the same college. It normally wasn't an option for first year students, but because she already had her Associate's, she was able to get away with it. She was also, thankfully, the first one there so she was able to snag the largest room.

Her first class would be starting in an hour, and she was going over all of her supplies to make sure she had everything. Once she was sure she had everything, Sara sat down on her bed, staring down at her phone. She wished she could call Laurel and just italk/i to her big sister. Tell her about the move, about she was feeling, make sure she was proud of her decision. Sara knew she would be, though. As much as Sara annoyed her, as any kid sister does, the blonde knew Laurel was proud of her no matter what.

After wasting about thirty minutes, she gathered her things and made her way out of her apartment and to the Central City University campus. It was about a ten minute walk from her apartment, which was nice, and she noticed that she passed a coffee shop, Jitters, that she made a mental note to check out soon.

Once she got to the campus, Sara found the building she needed for class, and then hunted for room three-oh-five; Psychology of Criminal Behavior. So far, there weren't that many students, so she found a spot near the back and got out out her books and notebooks. A few more people trickled in before the bell, but not many.

As soon as the teacher started to introduce the class, a young man around Sara's age with brown hair and beautiful hazel eyes came skidding into the room, a coffee cup in hand. "Sorry, sorry," he apologized, voice deeper than Sara suspected. The professor shot him an unimpressed look, but let the student pass with a wave of his hand. The man looked around the room and his eyes landed on the spot next to Sara. He sprinted up the steps, long legs helping him out, only almost tripping once, before he plopped down in his chair.

"That was quite an entrance," Sara joked, smiling over at him. The man grinned back, showing off one of the brightest smiles she'd ever seen.

"I'm chronically late. It's a problem." Sara held out her hand.

"Sara Lance." He reached out, giving her hand a shake.

"Bartholomew Allen, but you can call me Barry."